The Blue Army
by ComedyFan2086
Summary: The Doctor and Jamie land in Hartlepool, where a recent tragedy has hit the community hard. Can the disappearance of the town's labourers be connected to the strange goings-on in the seaside town? And who, or what, is actually behind all this?
1. Chapter 1- Welcome to Hartlepool

**Warning: This story contains two very strong accents which, although they belong to kick-ass characters, I find notoriously difficult to spell. I am very familiar with the town of Hartlepool, because I lived there with my grandpa for a couple of years, but if you are a rare industrial towns pedant, please leave your criticisms in form of review. Thank you, and enjoy!**

* * *

In a corner of the universe, far away from where we are now, a small blue box spun in a pocket of time, like a coin careering on its edge on a tabletop. Like the coin the Tardis gradually slowed, spinning lower and lower and lower still... before finally tumbling away again, sinking into reality. Its path was not as random as it seemed, but was in fact controlled by the clever mind and nimble fingers of a Time Lord; the Doctor, to be precise. (Although the degree of control was open to interpretation, according to some of his companions over the years.)

In fact, those who didn't know the Doctor well, or heard the stories of his adventures, might be inclined to challenge his cleverness also. The shabby figure casually tweaking the controls did not look like an academic at first glance; more like a mannequin in the window of a charity shop fallen on hard times. The messy dark hair and comical face, barely a muscle away from a mischievous smile, also hid the intelligence well. But if you were to look into his eyes, just at the right time, you might suddenly feel a small irrational shiver of fear, and perhaps forget for a moment what you were about to say. It goes without saying that it wouldn't be wise to get on the wrong side of those eyes.

For now though, the Doctor's mind was calm, and happy- alone with the core of the Tardis. She sang to him, like she always did when they were alone. Unlike his earlier incarnation, he was now less inclined to wish to be by himself, and enjoyed the company of others. But solitude was a rare gift, and for that reason a day like this was all the more precious.

Strangely, it was the Tardis this time that broke the connection in order for them to land. Usually it was the Doctor who had to tear himself away from the machine, in order for Jamie to get some fresh air every now and again. The poor boy had, after all, joined him so he could have experiences- not to just clear up after the two of them. The Doctor had a tendency to get distracted, and on average left five to ten forgotten cups of tea lying around in various places every day. Of course, not all of them were found the day they were "lost", and so Jamie had begun a habit of carrying a pair of latex gloves in his shirt pocket, in case he ran into a mouldy cup left in some crevice in the corridors.

Although he hadn't been around as long as Ben and Polly (who had left for London some time ago), Jamie's trained ear recognised the sound of the Tardis landing somewhere; and within a few seconds he entered the control room.

"Where are we, Doctor?" he asked curiously, peering at the console screen. It remained stubbornly blank, save for static and occasional white pips.

The Doctor examined the console readings with apparent interest. "Well, this is a new one to me," he commented vaguely. "Have you ever visited the North of England, Jamie?" The Scotsman shrugged helplessly. Back in his time- the year 1745- his people and the English weren't exactly the best of allies. "Sorry, I completely forgot. Well, there's no time like the present. I'm guessing by the coordinates that this is somewhere in the Teesside area, in the 1980s."

"Will they do fish and chips here, do ye ken?"

"Must you always think only of your stomach?" the Doctor teased good-naturedly. "Yes, I expect they will. Only one way to find out, eh? And I suppose it is around lunchtime, anyway."

* * *

The two men exited the Tardis cautiously. Upon seeing his surroundings, the Doctor gave a delighted shout.

"Well, will you look! We're at the seaside! And what a marvellous day for it, too!"

"Ye cannae smell the sea." Jamie was just as excited, but made an effort to hide it. "Where'd ye say we were again?"

"This is Hartlepool, I believe," said the Time Lord, taking out a tiny notebook. "A charming marina, isn't it? And such history!"

"What history?"

"Well," the Doctor began, "There is a tale that may or may not be true or exaggerated. Apparently, during the Napoleonic wars- a little late for you, I'm afraid- a monkey was washed up in a shipwreck on that beach." He pointed in the direction of the shore. "The boat was French, and the townspeople jumped to the unfortunate conclusion that the monkey was a member of the French navy."

"Ach, ye're pulling my leg, surely! No' a proper monkey, like in the zoo?"

"I did say it was only a story. Anyway, the people held a trial, and hanged the poor creature within days." The Doctor paused. "Rather cruel, of course, but nobody had seen a chimpanzee before. They simply knew no better."

"I bet they must feel a right bunch o' numbskulls now," added Jamie gleefully.

"On the contrary, I believe the people are actually quite proud of it, actually. They wrote songs about it, and did plays about it. They see the monkey as a sort of mascot, I think."

"Bonkers, the lot o' them." Jamie looked about him. "At least they have fish and chips now. Look!" True enough, a small chip shop stood by the railings, by the ships moored in the marina. Jamie and the Doctor approached it, keen for some food.

It was, to their pleasure, "a proper old-fashioned chippy"- a phrase Ben had coined last time they were in London. The place smelt of cheap batter and frying oil, and on the counter was a mountain of issues of "The Daily Star" for wrapping the meals. There was nobody else there. The Doctor took a quick look at the papers; they were for the second of July, 1987. Of course, it would be a few days out.

"Can I help you, sir?" The Doctor glanced up. He was under scrutiny by a burly man at the counter, who beheld him with suspicious eyes. The Teesside accent was so thick, you could make a spoon stand up in it.

"Two sausage and chips," said Jamie quickly, to distract the man. "That alrigh'?" He had quickly put on a similar accent. Jamie had quickly perceived that this was the sort of place that didn't behave kindly towards outsiders- especially "posh English chappies" like the Doctor. The man gave him a look, and went to shovel the soggy cut potato pieces into a bundle of newspapers.

"Thank you," the Doctor said to Jamie quietly. "That came in rather handy. I still don't know how you do that." The boy looked uncharacteristically bashful at the praise.

"Ach, well, I don't ken either. I just heard it, and it sort of happened..." They both jumped, as their sausages and chips were slammed down on the counter inches from their noses.

"That'll be five pound seventy," said the intimidating man. Luckily the Doctor had a ten pound note on his person, and he gingerly handed it over to the till. Meanwhile, Jamie gratefully bit into one of the chips. Moments later, he coughed.

"Are the chips usually this salty here, Doctor?" The Doctor frowned, taking one of his own smaller ones. He resisted the urge to spit it back out.

"Goodness me! That _is_ rather salty, isn't it?"

The man at the till had a thunderous expression on his face, having overheard. "Do you have a problem with my chips?"

"Too right we do!" Jamie snapped, still barely holding onto the Hartlepool accent. "What'd you do to them? I may well have just gone outside and taken a sip o' the sea!"

"These here are the best food on the marina," snarled the man, "and anyone who says otherwise can stuff-"

"Ralph!" said a sharp voice. "We're running low on Lilt. Can you do the honours?" The man called Ralph gave the Doctor and Jamie a withering look, and retreated grumbling to the back. The woman who had spoken, a tall woman with a blonde perm and tired eyes, took his place.

"I'm sorry about that," she said to them wearily. "Ralph doesn't normally blow up at people like that. Thing is, he's had a bit of a shock. He lost two brothers in the big sink. To be honest, he shouldn't be at work in his state, but we're so short of people as it is. It helps some people to work- keeps their minds off things. I'm Eileen Bow, by the way. I run the shop."

"Nice to meet ye."

"The big sink, did you say?" the Doctor repeated. "What's that?"

"Don't say you haven't heard! It even made national news, you know. See?" They finally got a proper look at the papers. The following headline was emblazoned on the front page: "TOWN PAYS HOMAGE TO SHIPWRECK VICTIMS". The picture underneath showed a crowd of people, all sad-looking, holding flowers. One of them was holding up a cardboard sign saying: "God help the folk on HMS Margate".

"The Margate sank three weeks ago, just off Marske," said Eileen sombrely. "Almost two thirds of the manpower on the ship were from Hartlepool. Tragic. Hardly a person here who wasn't affected."

"What about you?" asked the Doctor gently. The woman turned pink.

"Nobody important," she said stiffly. "Anyway, do you have a complaint?"

"Well, the chips are a wee bit salty..." Jamie looked down at them ruefully. "But... it's nae really important in the big picture, is it, now I think about it. Sorry for wastin' your time."

"Eeh, it's alright," Eileen chuckled kindly. "It makes a change from the complaints we usually get. Normally people think our food has been too plain!"

"Really?" The Doctor was suddenly intrigued. "That's rather odd."

"I know! We're putting almost four times as much salt on as we usually do! We know it's not healthy, but it's all about the customers these days, pet."

"Yes, yes, I quite understand," said the Doctor absently. "Now, how long has that been going on for?"

"Oh, I'd say about... two weeks, give or take? It was a sort of a gradual thing, and some people like more seasoning anyhow, don't they; now curries are getting popular. I had one a few days ago, and it nearly singed my hair off!"

"Quite. Well, you've been a great help, madam. Here's a tip." The Doctor rummaged in the pocket of his Edwardian coat, and finally procured a half-crown, pressing it into Eileen's palm. "I know you're decimal at the moment, but it might make a good keepsake. Cheerio!" Jamie pulled an apologetic face at the shop-owner as they left. In the short time they had been in the warm, the weather had turned considerably. There was now a moderate breeze, as well as a mild drizzle, and Jamie pulled his jacket close to him. Not so that the Doctor could see him, of course. If the Scotsman was caught complaining about English weather, he'd never hear the end of it. It was also getting quite dark.

"Did that lady just call ye 'pet'?" he jibed. The Doctor frowned.

"Yes, I did notice that. A nice phrase, really, don't you agree?"

"I don't know about you, Doctor," said Jamie quickly, "but I find this place a bit funny. As if something's aboot to happen, but no one properly knows yet. Y'know... what's the word..."

"A pensive atmosphere, would you say?"

"Oh, aye."

"I have to say I agree." The Doctor folded his notebook into one of his voluminous pockets, and squinted at the grey water, which was becoming noticeably disturbed. "Then again, it's somewhat expected, when there's been a blow to the community such as this. Like Mrs Bow said, there's very few people who won't have-"

"Doctor!" Jamie pointed further down the marina. "Look at yon chappie down there! What's he doing?" Through the mist caused by the light rain, the Doctor could just make out a figure, unusually tall compared to the railing. With a jolt, he realised that the person was _on_ the railing, and was preparing to jump! He looked to Jamie, and could see that the human had come to the same conclusion.

"Hey! Get down from there, it's dangerous!" They ran towards the figure. It turned its shadowed face towards them in the dim light, and, contrary to getting down, seemed to brace itself further to take the watery plunge...

* * *

 **...And yes, I _have_ put in a cliffhanger on the first chapter, because I am a horrible person.**

 **Updates should be fairly regular, about once every three days or so. If not, feel free to operate the mechanism which hits me with a stick and forces me to labour over the story further (otherwise known as constructive criticism in the reviews box).**

 **Thank you.**


	2. Chapter 2- Ted Dodson

**Thank you for your patience, and silence. I assume there are people reading, and in a massive act of arrogance I give you another chapter!**

* * *

 _"Hey! Get down from there, it's dangerous!" They ran towards the figure. It turned its shadowed face towards them in the dim light, and, contrary to getting down, seemed to brace itself further to take the watery plunge..._

Jamie, being faster, got there first. Reaching out to the man, he yelled, "Hey, stop, ye big loon!" Once again, the face turned towards them. Now they were near, the Doctor and Jamie could clearly see it was a middle-aged man, with grey curly hair with flecks of white, a bit thin on the top. He was wearing a long, dark overcoat, which had given him a foreboding appearance.

"What are you two playing at?" he demanded, clearly annoyed. "Making such a clatter in such a peaceful place. It's an absolute bloody disgrace."

"I do beg your pardon, sir," said the Doctor, putting on his best "normal" smile. "We do hope we didn't surprise you too much. It's just, we did have concerns that you might be about to jump off that railing there." For a moment, the gentleman looked down at his perch, with an appearance of genuine shock. Then the look was quickly veiled by annoyance, which was proving to be his leading facial expression.

"I had no intention of doing anything of the sort."

"Oh, really?" challenged Jamie. "Then why were ye hangin' over the railing like a daft fool?"

"Jamie..."

"Oh, don't worry, sir," the man said, lowering himself to the ground with dignity. "I know his sort. Stupid punks who dress oddly and think they know everything. We used to have real men in this town. Where were _you_ when my son was off on the Margate, earning honest money? Probably slacking and writing poetry, no doubt." The Doctor took a moment to reflect on the idea of Jamie voluntarily writing poetry in his spare time, before quickly stepping into the conversation.

"I'm afraid that my friend," he said firmly, "is most definitely not a punk. We're just not from around here, you see. Now, seeing as you're alright, we'll go on with our business, and you can go on with yours."

"Well." The man appeared pacified. "I was going to get my sausage and chips, as a Sunday treat."

Jamie, eager to redeem himself, gingerly offered his own, with an awkward "here". The Doctor beamed proudly as they were accepted. Now holding his free meal, the man seemed suddenly to see them in a new light.

"I'm Ted, by the way," he introduced himself. "Ted Dodson. Say- I like to eat them at my own table, myself. What would you say to going there, and splitting it fairly? Seeing as you paid for it, I mean." As if on cue, both men's stomachs rumbled impressively. Jamie sent the Doctor a beseeching look, and he thought for a moment- more for appearances than anything.

"Yes... yes, that would do nicely. We should all get a fair portion that way. I'm the Doctor, and that's my friend Jamie. We're travellers. In fact, we were looking for a place to stay, preferably before dark. Do you know anywhere suitable, sir?"

"Cripes, I haven't been called 'sir' since my service days," laughed Ted. "You're free to kip at mine, so long as you don't mind it being either on the settee or under the table."

"That would suit us very well." The Doctor once again looked delighted. "Isn't everyone getting on now?"

* * *

Ted Dodson lived in a two-story house, made of soot-blackened brick. It was a fairly old-fashioned place, and central heating had been a relatively late development. The television set was already on when they entered, ensuring that you could hear the latest of the Millwall-Swansea game from all corners of the house. Although the place smelt of mothballs, it was organised with the same degree of organised chaos as the Tardis- from the pile of marbles at the top of the stairs, to the fleet of plastic windmills in the overgrown front garden.

The man gave them the walk-round as they went down the hallway. "My bedroom's at your starboard; bathroom at your port; kitchen and living room straight ahead. Travelling folk like you should have no trouble finding your way around. Upstairs is off-limits." Jamie was immediately curious as to why they couldn't go up the darkened stairs, but a warning look from the Doctor kept him quiet. Guests, they decided, had no right asking that manner of questions anyway.

And so it came to be that the three men sat at the round dinner table by the fireplace, eating their two-thirds portion of sausage and chips in amicable silence.

"Well," concluded Ted, as if finishing a conversation in his head, "there's no need to ask why you're here. We've been getting more press that we've ever had, after the big sink."

"I'm afraid that is our main reason for coming here, yes," the Doctor admitted. "There's some things we don't understand. Why were their so many people from here on the Margate in the first place?"

"Well, they came out of the blue, like. Government sponsored research ship, they said. Massive ship, it was- dwarfed everything else at the docks. They were going up to Iceland or somewhere, to investigate a new kind of mollusc which they thought could be used as a petrol substitute. They had all the science, I reckon. Didn't need any university types; they just wanted men with sea-legs who could lift heavy things. Every working-class bloke under forty jumped at the chance. The promise of adventure brought in the young ones, as well. It was going to do wonders for the economy, because everyone would get their weight in silver for three weeks' work." Ted snorted derisively. "Fat lot of good it's done us in the long run."

"Can you be sure nobody survived?" asked the Doctor. "Surely the search teams must have found something."

"Not even a bloody screw of the ship was found in the end. It's as though it was just swallowed up by the Channel, just off Marske-on-Sea. It's often that way, I've learned," the man informed them knowledgeably. "See, the boat was so heavy that when it went down, it would've made a sort of... hole in the sea."

"Like when you pull the plug out in the bath!" Jamie added brightly. Ted looked mildly surprised for a moment, before continuing.

"Yes, quite a lot like that. So anything around, survivors and suchlike, would have been dragged down by the current. Stronger than any man, even a good swimmer."

"You seem to know an awful lot about shipwrecks, Ted," the Doctor observed speculatively. The man shrugged modestly.

"Well, you have to make yourself informed about that sort of thing, you know. You can't just believe the hysterical stuff the local news is feeding us." Ted looked down at his sausage with an air of sorrow. "Do they put nothin' on the food any more? They're very stingy with the salt these days." Jamie looked down at his chips, then at the Doctor. His friend already looked intrigued. Trust the Doctor to find a new mystery over fish and chips!

Their host stifled a yawn, putting down his knife and fork. "Well lads, I'm just about done for tonight. I'll be off to bed, if you don't mind too much. You wouldn't mind turning off the lights and such when you go to bed, would you?"

"Not at all."

* * *

"Jamie?"

"...mm...wha'?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake! You can't have nodded off already! I only turned the light off two minutes ago."

"I wasnae asleep, Doctor. I was just... restin'."

"Hmm. That's what the Norwegian Blue said, and look where he was. I just thought I ought to tell you I think something's a bit off."

"I thought you said 'twas to be expected. The place is like a ghost town, anyway."

"Yes... well, I've changed my mind somewhat. Think about it- what's odd about an enormous ship, claiming to be funded by the government, turning up without warning at a town and picking up most of the town's workforce, only to sink without fulfilling its cause- which was very vague to begin with, you remember. What is odd about that?"

"...Nothin'?"

"No. Everything, Jamie."

"Oh, aye. I forgot what you were talkin' aboot."

"..."

"..."

"Oh dear. You've fallen asleep again, haven't you."

"...zzzzz... um! Right, I'm awake. Er, is the answer... five? No, six."

"...I'll tell you tomorrow. Alright?"

"Aye..."

"..."

* * *

 **And so the curtain falls on the second chapter- at least it would, if I could afford a proper curtain. Just imagine a second-hand army jacket from Oxfam falling on it instead, that should do the trick. At any rate, it's over. (Other charity shops are available, but Oxfam IS KING.)**

 **Thank you.**


	3. Chapter 3- Finding Jack

**I would like to apologise profusely for the VERY sulky author's note from the last chapter. I'm in a better mood now, because there has been a reviewer! Although I haven't seen "The Aztecs", Shevy B, I enjoyed your message.**

 **Now without what people would describe as "further ado", here's another chapter!**

* * *

The Doctor sat with Jamie and Ted once more, this time eating breakfast. It turned out that Ted was an experimenter with porridge, presenting them with a delicious number of porridge, blackberries, and lemon juice. If Jamie had fully honed the ability to make notes, he certainly would have been by this point.

Jamie looked between the Doctor and Ted anxiously. His friend had been behaving oddly since that morning, fiddling with his collar and bringing things out of his pockets, only to dart them back in again. The Doctor clearly had something important to say, but had no idea how to breach the subject to their host.

Said host finished his bowl in good time, giving them a satisfied grin. "I'm afraid this was all I had in- porridge oats and fruit. Not too bad though, is it? I really was lucky to run into you two; I was famished at that point."

The Doctor put on his serious sad face, which looked as always as though he was gently accusing a favourite child of some bad deed. "Now, Ted. We both know that's not completely true, don't we?"

"What are you getting at?"

"Well, you had already had your tea, after all," pointed out the Time Lord. Jamie realised that the evidence must have been eating away at him all night, and now he was able to divulge his suspicions, it was with a sort of feverishness. "I know, because you'd almost finished the washing up from the meal. Meatloaf, I believe? The sauce on the remaining plate hadn't hardened, so it couldn't have been from lunch. So that means you had had a full meal not one hour before we met you. So who, after that, walks all the way into the centre of town for another meal? Dreadfully wasteful, not to mention not so good for your stomach."

Ted looked at them both with a mixture of stubbornness and fear.

"I have my own reasons for doing things," he said in a shaking voice. "You can leave me well alone, I've done nuthin'. What kind of news reporters are you, anyway?"

"We may as well tell him, Doctor," said Jamie. The Doctor sighed.

"I'm afraid that we haven't been completely honest with you, Mr Dodson," he told their host. "We are not news reporters. We are in fact detectives, from a more... secretive section of the police force. We believe that alien activity is linked to the sinking of the Margate, and we also believe that if we uncover the mystery, we may be able to find your son."

Ted Dodson looked older than they had seen him.

"I can't tell you," he said wearily, with a hint of hopefulness. "You'll think I'm mad."

"We're the ones who believe in wee green men," Jamie pointed out. "We're nae gonna think _you're_ mad."

"I suppose you're right. No harm in telling, one madman to another." He sighed deeply, and cleared his throat. "Ahem! Well, I was doing the washing up, after tea. And I got to around halfway through, as you can see."

"Can you remember what happened to make you stop?"

"Aye, but- no. Yes. Well, I saw... I saw Jack." Suddenly Ted seemed not to be looking at them, but at some sort of infinitity over their left shoulder. "Clear as day. He wanted me to go with him, and I did. I don't remember much of the walk over. I mean, I wasn't possessed or anything, I had full control of my arms and legs, but.. I _really_ wanted to be on the ship. I couldn't think of anything but how much I wanted to see Jack again..."

"EUREKA!" exclaimed the Doctor, jumping up from his seat and hopping from foot to foot like a monkey. His companions looked at him, baffled. "I know who this is! Oh, I should have known when we came! Oh, I could feel it alright. But now I know!" He raced to the doorway, before pausing to address them both. "I cannot emphasise this enough: _do not leave the house._ Don't even move. Right, I have to get my diary. No moving!" And with that he was gone.

Ted and Jamie shared a resigned look, then settled down to concentrate on not moving even slightly.

* * *

About five hundred feet below the sea, about two miles away, the occupants of a ruined control room were also knuckling down to a task. However, this venture was not benevolent at all.

 _"Is the subject reacting well to the signal, Qw'an?"_ asked one of the creatures in their native tongue. It was a short, yellow creature with no eyes and a huge, gaping mouth. On the top of its head was what some would mistake for an obsidian crown, with pulsing units as "jewels". Like its fellow creature it paid no attention to the console. Although complicated for a human, they looked at it as a mature adult would look at a ten-piece jigsaw puzzle.

 _"It is, Qw'il,"_ replied the slightly larger alien known as Qw'an. _"Although its mind is active, it is old and therefore weak. The human has no one- it will not be missed by its people."_

 _"What about the ones who corrupted our influence before?"_ ventured Qw'il. _"They may still be with him."_

 _"In that case, we cannot rely on it coming to us."_ Qw'an folded his eighteen skeletal fingers regally.

 _"Then what shall we do?"_

 _"It is very simple, Qw'il. We must send the Door out again, but stronger. If it won't come to us, we shall have to go to it."_

 _"Yes, Qw'an."_ Qw'il began gently to touch the "jewels" on his head with the pads of his fingers. Slowly, from the interweaving patterns of light that he spun, there emerged the outline of a human being...

* * *

"So, what's your wee man Jack like, anyway?" asked Jamie conversationally. "Ye know, for when we find him."

Ted laughed without humour. "You really have a lot of faith in this Doctor feller, don't you?"

"Aye," Jamie replied, just as seriously. "He's the cleverest man ever."

"Well, you need to learn that even clever people don't know absolutely everything."

"Mebbe." The Scotsman dwelled on this for all of two seconds, before pressing on. "So, Jack?" The older man rolled his eyes.

"Well, he's not a 'wee man' like you said. He's twenty-four. And he's taller than you or I. You'd think that'd stop the kids from laughing at him, wouldn't you?" Jamie looked at Ted.

"They did? I mean, they do?"

"Aye. I reckon it's because he's different, simple as that." Ted's face hardened with bitterness. "All those bullies. You saw their families on the front pages, didn't you? Hailing them as heroes, fallen heroes. But my boy," he added vehemently, "even though he did just as much on that ship as they did, nobody gives a hoot. Because the doctors told everyone he was 'special'. Even afterwards, I heard people calling him things. Saying he should have been put in a home."

"That's nae right at all."

"It can't be helped. You wouldn't think it was the twentieth bloody century, would you?" Ted paused. "Maybe he should have gone to a home," he said quietly. "He could have more independence that way. He wouldn't have stowed away on that confounded ship. I..." his face crumpled. "I just wish I could see him agai-"

And then the room was bright, too bright. Jamie attempted to shade his eyes with his forearm, and he could see two silhouettes.

Two? he thought. Was the Doctor back already? But the other figure was tall, much taller than the Doctor. Then his eyes adjusted to the strange light. Two eyes- bright blue- set in a pale, drawn face. Oddly stiff features, immovable. Like a dead man walking.

"Jack-" croaked Ted. "Is- is that...?"

"You didn't come with me, Dad." the man said woodenly, slowly. "Why didn't you come with me? Don't you want to be with me?"

"Yes, I do, Jack!" begged the father. "I want that more than anything. Please!"

"One last chance..." the figure breathed, reaching out cold, rubbery fingers. "One last chance, Ted..." Shaking, Ted slowly reached out his own pink hands to the spectre. Just a few inches more, and then-

In the last section of that particular event, several things happened at more or less the same time. One couldn't be sure if Jamie had thrown himself between father and son before or after the Doctor crashed through the doorway, shouting "STOP!" One thing was for sure, though. By the time the light had faded, and the Doctor and Ted had recovered their wits, both Jamie and the ghostly young man had completely vanished, save for a puddle on the sheepskin rug.

* * *

 **And so the short-sighted Ice Warrior topples onto the third episode of "The Blue Army". Next update should be in a few days.**


	4. Chapter 4- The Rota'Qw

**... "In a few days", my behind. I apologise. I'm just terrible at author's notes. Tell you what, just read this then go and adopt an abandoned rabbit.**

* * *

"No, no, no, no, no..." the Doctor fretted, pacing back and forth. "This is not good at all. Oh, deary me. _Not at all._ "

"What the hell just happened?" Ted demanded, gesturing to the sodden patch on his kitchen floor. "Where did they go?"

"Somewhere quite near," supplied the Time Lord, barely pausing in his thought. "but very difficult to reach. The bottom of the English Channel, to be precise."

"The Margate?" Ted blinked. "Is this the 'wee green men' you were talking about?"

"No, don't be ridiculous, they're yellow." The Doctor held his sonic screwdriver aloft, cross-eyed as he read the readings on the tiny numerical display. "Jamie is quite safe. The Rota'qw are very gifted at transmitting radio waves, but physically they are weak as newborns."

"Who are these... these rotor-cue folk anyway?" For the first time, the Doctor fully addressed his company.

"Rota'qw," he explained patiently, "are beings whose main asset is communications. Radio waves and infrared are a doddle to them. They can even control the release of hormones with the tweak of a corbaxylian lobe. Clever, but very dangerous if even one gets bad ideas. This is probably some rookies who are after a cheap workforce to build a city or something."

"What do hormones have to do with that?"

"Well, hormones really are funny things. They control when your body does certain things, and make you feel on edge or angry. But the type of brain chemical they're _really_ interested in is endorphins, like dopamine. They dull pain and make you feel happy; most organic beings have them, whether they like it or not. The Rota'qw have taken full advantage of that. Who would see working twenty-three hours a day on a barely inhabitable planet without consent as a breach of rights, if they are overjoyed about doing it?"

"So, you reckon that they want Jamie for labour?"

"I'd go so far as to say that that's what they want for the crew of the Margate too. Do you remember what you told us last night? You said that the captain only seemed interested in strong men who could lift and handle basic tools. It was a research vessel, but I'm quite sure that there were no scientists on that ship."

Ted nodded. "I think I see now. So, I don't suppose there's any chance of them escaping now..."

"I highly doubt it. Even the strongest man wouldn't be able to make it to the surface at that depth. And it gets worse." The Doctor showed Ted his sonic screwdriver- what he thought this would achieve wasn't clear. "See? A medium-range emission, coming from on the surface of the sea. And I think I know what it does. Even if Jamie could escape, he won't have any ambition to do so. The entire crew are being doped by their own brains."

* * *

Jamie had the vaguest feeling that if he was normal, he would be feeling quite upset about what was happening to him.

He had been drifting around the abandoned ship for about an hour, and had found nothing of interest. It was quite hard to see anyway, since the lights were red and dim- like the false "night" on the Moonbase. He _had_ been trying to find out how in McLaren's name he was breathing underwater. For that must be where they were. The windows had all been blacked with paint- the sailors had done it, apparently. They didn't know why the odd yellow beasties asked them to do it, but they didn't seem to care. Come to think of it, neither did Jamie. It was an odd feeling.

Now, he was sitting amongst the sailors in the mess-hall, who seemed to have nothing to do. A few of them gazed at his incuriously, because of his attire, but said nothing. The ship creaked, almost as though the repressive silence was enough to make the place burst at the seams.

But it wasn't silent. There was a strange noise coming from somewhere- quiet, half-choked. Jamie got to his feet, trying to instil some sense of urgency into his movements. But he couldn't. Why did he feel so content, when he logically knew that he needed answers?

Following the direction of the noise, Jamie came to a corner of the mess which wasn't occupied by other people, beside a curtain which concealed the blacked-in windows. There was another cry from behind the curtain, and he cautiously folded it aside.

A young man, not a lot older than him, crouched in the folds of the curtain, hidden from his shipmates. It seemed like a very awkward position, as he was about a foot taller than Jamie, and his uniform's sleeves barely brushed his wrists.

"...Jack Dodson?" The man's head shot up in surprise and recognition.

"You- you talked! Are you with them? Did my dad send you?" Jamie considered the question.

"Aye. Your da sent me to look after ye, and perhaps we can escape later." Maybe. That sounded like a good idea, in his head. But shouldn't he be getting excited about it?

The man smiled. "That's good. I don't like it here, it's bad. Are we going to escape now?" For just a moment, Jamie's interest was piqued.

"Wait. Ye're not... happy here?" Jack shook his head decisively.

"Nope. I hate it here. No one here will talk to me now, not even Evans, because something happened. There's nothing to do, not even play cards." His face suddenly tightened with worry. "Have I done something bad? Is that why they won't talk to me, because I made the thing happen and now we're stuck here?"

"Nah, it's not your fault. It's those yellow things that brought me here- they made it happen, not you." Jamie paused. "Who's Evans?"

"We work together. He was with me when the thing happened. He was nice to me, but now he doesn't talk."

"Oh. Ye know the thing that happened? Can ye describe it to me, best ye can?"

"Yup. I was with Evans in here, and then the ship started shaking..."

* * *

The Doctor and Ted walked along the marina once more, this time with the eleven o'clock sun shining down on them. Although sunshine was rare even at that time of year, the two men's minds were on something else entirely.

"Do we need to find the thing that's sending out the message, Doctor?"

"If we want to stop the Rota'qw playing mind games on us, then yes." The Doctor looked out at the sea. "There was some interference, but I've managed to narrow the co-ordinates down to an area of about a mile, out that way. Is there anywhere we can hire a motorboat?"

If the Doctor hadn't been fiercely calculating in his head to shout instructions to Ted on adjusting the steering, he might have enjoyed the ride a little bit more. Unfortunately, he thought ruefully, his second body was barely more suited to speed than the first, and he could feel his stomach flip every time they went over a trough in the waves. He highly doubted that he'd ever, even in future incarnations, be a man of action. No, cars and motorcycles would never be for him.

"You know," ventured Ted in the quiet, "you remind me of a fella I knew in the RN. Thing was he hated those tin hat things they made you wear on torpedo boats. So for four-odd years, he went around with this gaudy family tea-cosy on his head! Annoyed his officers no end, and these days he'd never get away with it, but he just went right on wearing it."

"Ah, here we go." The Doctor fumbled the boat to a standstill, and dropped anchor. Ted peered over the edge. Bobbing in the water was a green buoy, like the ones on the beach just half a mile away.

"It must have got free of its moorings and drifted off," rationalised Ted. The Doctor, however, grasped the plastic buoy firmly with both hands, and lifted it dripping from the water. "Oh." Sure enough, the buoy was anchored by a rope, and refused to rise more than a foot above the surface.

Making sure to keep his feet inside the boat, the Doctor explored the object with his fingers. Eventually he found a tiny crack, and smiled. "Oh good, a puzzle box! I have to admit I have a fondness for them. Just a moment..." Ted watched in amazement as the buoy folded outwards before his very eyes, until what he saw wasn't a buoy but a grey plastic cell, with a large spike sticking out of it. "Just as I thought- A Rota'qw signal unit. But-" The Doctor beheld it with some puzzlement. "This is a dinosaur compared to where they are technologically in this era. Why, a thing like this would barely reach the coast, never mind to the bottom of- _ah_."

"What? What?"

"One thing you should _never_ do," said the Doctor calmly, "is make large assumptions about your enemy without evidence. It can send the whole investigation at an odd angle. But that's what we've been doing, hasn't it? At the end of the day, do we have any evidence at all that the Margate is under the sea?"

* * *

Jamie crept through the deepest bowels of the ship, with Jack in tow. With every footstep sounding like a musket shot in the silence, and the familiar feeling of a possible threat around every corner, the Scotsman felt the blood run through his veins at a quicker pace. When a box fell over behind them with an enormous clatter, he'd almost laughed. Jamie had forgotten how it felt to be afraid.

At last they came across a room which had flickering lights, blue. Technology, Jamie thought. He looked up and down the corridor, and caught sight of several metal cylindrical containers, which came up to his chest. STAND UPRIGHT, it said on the containers, in stencilled letters.

"Hey, Jack?" The other man joined him. "D'ye ken what's in these barrels?"

"They're filled with shrimps," answered Jack. "I think so, anyway. I tried to look in one once, but the men in white coats wouldn't let me."

"Hmm. Have ye seen these men recently? The ones in the coats?"

"No, never." Odd, Jamie thought. With difficulty, he screwed open one of the barrels, and peered inside, squinting from the poor light. It was filled to the brim with sand.

"This is all a stage!" he exclaimed. "Aye, well. It'll do well as a weapon now. Here, help me turn it upside-down." Jack grabbed the bottom, and managed to turn it upwards. The heavy sand fell out with a muffled sound. With the cargo gone, Jamie could carry it on its own without too much trouble. He quickly helped Jack get a barrel of his own, and they peeked around the door of the room.

Amongst the flickering screens were two skeletal figures, sitting on the floor. Jamie thought they looked like one of his wee cousins when they had a tantrum. On their heads, the gems on the two crowns glowed whiter than white. His head hurt when he looked at them. There was the threat, he thought. Hoisting up his barrel, he beckoned to Jack, pointing to the furthermost one. _I'll take him,_ he mouthed. Jack nodded, and tiptoed towards the one on the left.

Jamie made his way to the bigger creature, his hands slipping on his weapon. Slowly he lifted the barrel higher and higher, until it was above his own head, preparing to let it come crashing down...

* * *

 **I was joking about the rabbit. Only adopt one if you have the facilities for it. I'm feeling very sorry for rodents this week, because we've been forced to take our neighbour's into care. Their stupid brat hadn't cleaned the cage for weeks. I can't get the smell of rat poo off my body. Please help.**

 **Good author's note...**


End file.
